A Battle Joined: Part One
by Pete Tzinski
Summary: The exciting pilot episode of Starship Khitomer!


If you don't see an Applet here, I pity you.

**-------------------------------------------------------------**

**"A Battle Joined: Part One" **

**Written By: Pete D. Tzinski **

**Guest Stars:****  
Admiral John Weston  
Admiral Will Hendrickson **

_**With**_

**Admiral Nechayev  
Lieutenant Lural DePaul  
Lieutenant Menyez  
Lieutenant Rodrequiz  
Commander O'Connor  
Security Chief Eckley **

Lieutenant Lural DePaul rested her hands lightly on the controles of the shuttlecraft Apollo and gently nudged the throttle up to half-impulse. The Apollo lifted gracefully from the hanger deck of Earth Station McKinley and, passing silently through the containment field that kept the air in the hanger, glided toward the shipyard that was hanging in orbit of the Earth's moon.  
DePaul was fairly tall and lanky. Her light brown hair was pulled up in a loose bun.  
Her lightly-tanned skin set off her light green eyes and red lips.  
To most Terrans, Earth was home. To DePaul, the Moon was home. She had been born on Luna Colony One a little over thirty years ago...and up until she was ten, she hadn't imagined the possibility of people living anywhere but the Moon. Oh, to be sure, she'd heard that people lived on Earth...but it hadn't really registered in her mind that the people on Earth were...well...just like the people on the Moon!  
Her lips turned up in a slight smile. It was humorous in her mind that Terrans had named almost every moon in the Terran Solar System and all the nearby systems...but had neglected to give their own moon a name. She often wondered why that hadn't been done.  
As the shuttle glided around the Moon curvature, heading toward the shipyard, she admired the craters that dotted its surface. She took in the lovelieness of the Sea of Tranquility--she'd gone there on a school field trip once--and admired the pristine whiteness of Earth's only satalite.  
She was darn proud to be from the Moon....  
The computer bleeped a soft warning to her, jarring her out of her thoughts. They were approaching the shipyards.  
She shook off the thought of the Moon and all the good times she'd had there. She was a Starfleet officer now, and it was time she got with it.  
She activated the comm system and said in a lilting, melodeous voice,  
"This is Lieutenant DePaul. Requesting permission to board NX-1799."  
After a moment, a gruff voice answered. "This is Control. Bring your shuttle about and dock on the starboard side of the shipyard. You know the routine."  
"Aye, Controle. Initiating docking manuvers, as ordered."  
The shuttle's computer did most of the work during the docking procedure. As a result, the shuttle was docked smoothly a brief minute later. It would've been a lot longer if DePaul had been doing it. She'd never been very good at docking....  
The door slid open and DePaul stepped out of the shuttle and onto the hanger deck of the shipyard -- not at all unlike the one she had just left at Earth Station McKinley.  
A burly security guard stepped into her path once she was two steps from the shuttle.   
He brought a phaser rifle to bear on her head and said "Halt."  
She stopped obediently, dropping both her tricorder and her phaser on the deck before moving her hands out, away from her sides.  
Somwhere in the back of her mind, it occured to her that she ought to be annoyed. She was a Starfleet officer, yet they treated her like a prisoner!  
But the sensible part of her mind told her that it wasn't just her they treated like this. Everyone around here had to go through the same thing. This close to Earth, everyone was very paranoid. They couldn't be too careful. DePaul understood it and cooperated fully...even if it was a pain in the butt.  
The guard kept her covered while a doctor and another officer came up to her.  
The Doctor pressed a hypospray to her arm and depressed the stud on the top of the small device. Then he pulled back and removed the small tube from the bottom of the hypo. He held up the small vial of blood--her blood--to the light and shook it gently. When it failed to revert to changeling protomatter, he thrust it in his pocket and motioned to the other officer.  
The other man wore a blue uniform as well. He was probably in Medical, DePaul thought absently as he came closer.   
"Do it." The Doctor said.   
It was the only thing anyone had said in DePaul's presence since she'd come onboard.  
The other officer looked sharply at her, his gaze capturing hers. His dark brown eyes locked with her light green ones and never wavered. DePaul was wondering what was going on when she found out firsthand.  
In her mind, she felt his presence. It was like a hundred--no, a thousand!--little fingers digging through her mind, her thoughts, her memories, shuffling through it all, not really stopping long enough to thouroughly take in any of it.  
Then, as quickly as he had come, he left her mind. She gasped and slumped back slightly, breathing heavily.  
The dark-eyed man looked over at the Doctor and the guard and nodded once.  
Seeming relieved, the Doctor came up to DePaul and extended his hand. "Lieutenant DePaul. Sorry about any discomfort that might've caused. You're cleared for access to the NX-1799. Good day."  
After shaking DePaul's hand briefly, the Doctor turned and marched away, the dark-eyed man and the guard in tow. They were heading toward another shuttle that was coming for a landing.  
As DePaul made her way across the busy hanger deck, she wished the person in the other shuttle luck.   
Having a Betazoid rummage through one's head like that was not a pleasant experience...  
* * *  
  
  
  


The door hissed shut behind her and the small, automated, shuttle started moving through the transport tube  
that connected the shipyards with the NX-1799.  
The tube itself was transparent, and there were windows in the shuttle, through which DePaul was able to  
take in the NX-1799 exterior shape.  
At first glance, the NX-1799 appeared to be a Sovreign-class starship. However, as one looked closer,  
one realized, through subtle differences, that she couldn't be anything but a Guardian-class warship.  
To save time and cut cost, the designers had taken the shell of a Sovreign-class starship and had gutted it,  
removing everything. Then they had started rebuilding it, changing it into a Guardian-class starship bit by bit.  
She was bristling with weapons. The outer hull was studded with phaser banks. There were enough of them  
to give an enemy a nasty fight no matter which direction they attacked from.  
The Captain's Yacht had been removed and had been replaced by a repeating photon launcher. The  
repeating photon launcher was actually two launcher that provided a continuous barrage of photon torpedos.  
A torpedo would fire from one launcher. Then, while it stopped to reload, the other launcher would fire. It was a  
lethal weapon.  
She craned her neck and peered at the bottom of the NX-1799.  
Several workers were scurrying about, trying to get a Pheonix-class fighter to glide through the hanger  
doors into the fighter bay. The wings of the fighter--which were splayed out from the main hull--hit the sides of  
the hanger doors. Sparks flew and the fighter came to a stop. The workmen who had been pushing the fighter  
lost their grips on the fighter and went flying into the open hanger.  
DePaul grinned. Bet that caused quite a bit of trouble.... she thought.  
The computer beeped at her--computers had been beeping at her all day, she realized--and the shuttle  
started to slow. They were approaching the NX-1799.  
She swayed slightly as the shuttle slowed to stop, then stood up and made her  
way to the shuttle doors. The doors wouldn't open for another minute. The shuttle was waiting for the pressure to  
equalize between the NX-1799 and the shuttle.  
A minute passed.  
And another.  
And another....  
Finally, she tapped her combadge and said, "DePaul to NX-1799, come in."  
For a moment, there was silence. Then, amidst a large amount of shouting and banging, someone said.  
"This is Lieutenant Rodrequiz. Go ahead."  
"Lieutenant, I seem to be stuck inside the transit shuttepod from the shipyard. The doors won't open."  
DePaul could hear Rodrequiz hiss through his teeth, then reply. "The shuttle's waiting for the NX-1799  
airlock to equalize the pressure between the shuttle and the NX-1799. Unfortunatly, it won't happen.  
That particular system isn't up and running yet. I'll have someone pry the doors open for you."  
"Thanks much, DePaul out." She sighed in exasperation and dropped back into one of the seats.  
This trip was really becoming annoying...  
  
  
  


Ten minutes later, right when she was about to go nuts from being cooped up inside the shuttle when she  
had other things to do, someone rapped on the doors outside. At the same time, her badge chirped.  
"DePaul here," She answered it.  
"This is Lieutenant Menyez. Don't worry, we'll have you out in a minute."  
"Great." She grinned, even though she knew he couldn't see her. "Thank you. Sorry for any inconvenience  
this causes you."  
"Aw, hey, no problem." Menyez replied, "It got me out of Engineering. That makes it worthwhile right by  
itself."  
DePaul chuckled, but before she could ask why it was so good to get out of Engineering, the door creaked  
and slid open.  
Menyez was a sandy-haired, fresh-faced young man with an easy-to-come-by grin.  
She stepped through the airlock into the NX-1799. He grinned and waved his hand expansivly, taking in  
most of the deck. "Welcome to the NX-1799. Sorry about the mess."  
She started walking slowly, trying to take in everything at once. Menyez fell into step beside her, pointing  
out the major details to her and occasionally mentioning some of the minor details as well.  
They were on Deck 15...one deck above the Engineering Deck. She turned to Menyez. "Can we go down  
to Engineering?"  
He gestured toward a turbolift at the end of a mostly-completed hall-way. "We can...but I gotta warn you...  
it ain't pretty."  
"Thank you, Lieutenant," She said cooly, "But being an Engineer myself, I've seen my fair shair of  
disassembled ships."  
Menyez just shrugged and followed her into the lift.  
"So your an Engineer, eh?" He commented once the lift had started descending--very slowly--toward  
the next deck.  
"Yes," She replied. Now that she was here, all she wanted to do was get to work. She wasn't much of a  
conversationalist anyway.  
Menyez seemed to be the exact opposite--very chatty. He pressed on. "So, are you assigned to the NX-1799  
permenantly, or are you just helping with the construction?"  
"I'm permenantly assigned," She stated.  
"Great! So am I." He was about to speak again, but the 'lift reached Deck 16, the doors opened, and  
DePaul marched out, leaving him there with his mouth open and the sentance hanging unsaid on his lips.  
"Right...well...nice meeting you!" He shouted as the doors closed on him and the lift started back up.  
She manuvered her way through Engineering, dodging the Engineers who were busily working to build  
the place. After getting directions from one harried young Ensign, she marched up to a man who was lying on the  
ground, half-inside a conduit, working. He kept shouting "Hydrospanner! Somebody get me a Hydrospanner!"  
She tapped his knee which was sticking out, then winced when he jumped, startled, and started cursing a  
blue streak when he smacked his head.  
He worked himself out just enough to see who it was, then grunted and slid back in again.  
She leaned over and said, "Lieutenant Commander Dk'myr'chi? I'm Lieutenant DePaul."  
"Fine, fine." He mumbled, "Get me a Hyrdospanner, then go away."  
Wonderful personality..."Sir, I'm your assistant."  
"I don't want an assistant. I want a Hydrospanner."  
She sighed in exasperation and, straightening up, went in search of a Hydrospanner. She finally got one,  
five minutes later, from an Ensign who had placed it in his tool belt and had forgotten about it.  
She went back to Dk'myr'chi and tapped his knee again. Again, he jumped and whacked his head. Again, 

he started cursing. "Waddaya want now?"  
In response, she snaked her hand into the conduit and handed him the Hydrospanner.  
"Oh.....thanks."  
"As I was saying..." She started again in a tone told him she wouldn't go away. "My name is Lieutenant Laurel  
DePaul. I have been assigned to the NX-1799 as your assistant."  
"Fine, great." He grumbled back, "Assist me. Help Lieutenant Bernard with getting that EPS Conduit up and  
running."  
She sighed and moved off to do just that.  
This assignment, she thought to herself will either kill me, or him...  
  
  
  


Meanwhile, back on Earth at Starfleet Headquarters, Admiral John Weston pressed the button on the side  
of the door and heard a small chime sound inside the office. He stifled another sigh of annoyance. He was used to  
people coming to see him--not the other way around.  
"Come in," A rich, full, commanding voice drifted to him.  
He walked in and took a seat across from Captain Bradly J. Edwards. The blond-haired, thirty-nine year-old  
human male was sitting behind his desk, lounging back in his seat and playing with a stylus. "Admiral."  
"Captain Edwards," Weston growled. "What was so important that you had to bring me down here? Why  
couldn't you come see me?"  
Edwards shrugged his shoulders, "Well, it's not that important. I've been going all over the place for the past  
couple of weeks, visting other officers who're all over the place. I was sick of going to see people so..." He gestured  
toward Weston. "I thought it wouldn't hurt for the mountain to come to Mahommed."  
Weston scowled and said, "What do you want Edwards?"  
In reply, Edwards leaned forward. "A ship."  
"A ship?" Weston snorted, "You can't have a starship! I thought we'd settled this argument a long time ago."  
"Oh, no." Edwards grinned, "I just stopped for a little while, waiting for somthing good to come along. Well  
now it has, and I want it."  
Weston cross his arms over his large paunch, "What?"  
Edwards punched a key on his computer and a hologram shimmered into exsistence, hovering just above the  
table.  
Weston looked at it for a moment, then his eyes widened in recognition.  
"The NX-1799? No! Absolutly not!"  
"Admiral, I'm useless sitting here, behind a desk! I'm not a buracrat!" Edwards argued, refusing to back down.  
"I should be up there, fighting the Dominion. That's what I'm good at! You know I have more combat experience than  
any captain in the fleet. More then Captain Sisko or Picard even! I can do some good up there."  
Weston leaned forward until he was nose-to-nose with Edwards. "You're doing good down here too. You're  
training our Cadets to fight the Dominion. With our new officers trained to fight them, we'll stand a better chance of  
winning."  
Edwards laughed, "Yeah, but if I'm up there, helping battle-hardenened Captains fight the Jem'Hadar, we might  
win a lot sooner. C'mon Admiral, you know I'm right."  
"No your not." Weston stated firmly, turned, and stalked toward the window that overlooked the Acadamy  
grounds. "If you remember, your nervous breakdown last year...?"  
Edwards scowled, his face darkening slightly, "The board never proved that it was a nervous breakdown.  
They concluded that my story might be true as well. Damage to the nerves in my arm caused the twitch that you said  
was a sure sign of mental collapse. That and the report of a green counselor were all you had to go on."  
"That," Weston said quietly, "And the destruction of the Redemption."  
Edwards took three large steps toward Weston, fists clenched at his sides, face contorted in anger. He  
stopped himself before he could throw Weston out of the third story window to the grounds below. He took two  
deep breaths and counted to ten.  
When he could trust his voice again, he said, "The Redemption was destroyed not only because we were  
attacked by six Jem'Hadar warships, but because of incompetence on the part of my Security Chief. It was in the  
report."  
  
  


Weston shrugged and continued staring out the window. "As you say. My point is that you lost one ship,  
why should we give you another?"  
"Admiral, most captains have lost a ship or two in their time. Take Captain Picard. He lost the Stargazer  
and they gave him the Flagship of the Federation, the Enterprise-D. He lost her, and he got a state-of-the-art  
Sovreign-class starship, the Enterprise-E. Now, I lost the Redemption, and I get stuck teaching kids how to kill.  
Where's the logic in that?"  
"It has nothing to do with logic--"  
"I should say it doesn't."  
Weston ignored the comment and continued. "--It has to do with the fact that certain people think you should  
not have command of a starship."  
"No." Edwards shook a finger back and forth to emphasize the word. "'People' don't care. You don't think I  
should get a ship. This is just about you."  
"And you. You are not fit to command a starship."  
Edwards stood silently, gazing at the Admiral. Then he turned and walked back to his desk. He sat down  
behind it and said "Quite a few people disagree with you, Admiral. As I told you before, I've been going all over  
the place for the past couple of weeks, visiting people. I called in enough favors and spoke to enough friends in  
high places to get an application for command of the NX-1799. All it requires is your signature."  
"And that's all its going to lack." Weston said. He turned his back on Edwards and stalked toward the door.  
"Just a minute, Admiral." Edwards called after him.  
With a scowl that would've driven the Dominion back to the Gamma Quadrant, Weston stopped in his tracks  
and turned about slowly to glare terribly at Edwards.  
"What. Is. It. Now!?" He bellowed.  
"You really want to sign this form."  
"No, actually I don't."  
"Actually," Edwards reached into one of the drawers of his desk and withdrew a small metal object.  
He held it in his palm, and raised his hand toward Weston, allowing the older man to see it. "You do."  
Weston paled slightly for a moment, then turned bright red. He turned absolutly livid, sputtering and  
bellowing as he stood there, literally shaking in rage.  
"This is blackmail!" He roared. "How dare you!? I'll have you thrown in the brig so fast, you'll leave  
skid marks!"  
Edwards replied cooly, "But before you can do that, I'll make sure I talk a little too much to certain people  
who would just love information like the info that I've got."  
He indicated a button on his computer. "I've prepared a comprehensive report on everything I know about  
certain--shall we say--'shady' operations and programs that Starfleet is involved in. All I have to do is press this  
button, and copies of my report will  
be sent to officers, Federation officials, and other people all over the place. Just imagine...this information in the  
hands of...Admirals, Captains, Senators--"  
"Alright, alright!" Weston slammed his hand down on Edwards desk. "I'll sign the bloody form. You can  
have your precious starship!"  
"Good. I knew you'd be reasonable, Admiral." Edwards watched Weston sign the form. He took it and  
locked it in his desk drawer, then pocketed the metal object and pressed the DELETE button on the computer.  
"Always nice doing business with you, Admiral."  
Weston scowled and stalked out.  
Chuckling in jubilation to himself, Edwards tossed the small metal object--which was a small starfleet delta,  
identacle to the one he wore, except it had a small black star in the middle of it--and snatched it out of mid-air.  
NX-1799, here I come! He thought happily.  
***  
  
  
  
  


The next morning when Edwards went into his office and checked his computer, he found a message  
waiting for him from Admiral Hendrickson. He called it up, heart beating faster in anticipation. This is it...He thought.  
TO: Captain Edwards, Bradly J.  
FROM: Admiral Hendrickson  
CONCERNING: Assignment to the NX-1799. 

We recieved your application and, upon examining not only it but your record, we have detirmined that  
you are best suited for command of the NX-1799. Your comission as starship captain has been reactivated.  
You will proceed... 

He didn't even read the rest. With a whoop of delight, he kicked the table and sent his chair spinning,  
pumping his fist in the air and laughing as he spun around.  
He was to command a starship again! A starship!  
When he had settled down enough to finish reading the message, he turned forward again and picked up  
where he had left off. 

...to the Lunar Shipyards tomorrow at Twelve  
Hundred hours. Congratulations. 

Sincerely, Admiral Will Hendrickson  
  


With one final whoop, he bounded from his chair and headed for the door.  
Walking out of his officer, he shouted to Ensign Petersen, his yeoman.  
"I'm taking the day off! Take any calls!"  
Before Ensign Petersen could reply, Edwards was out the door. He could be heard pounding down the  
stairs, heading for the exit.  
Petersen shrugged and returned to his paperwork. Edwards could be eccentric sometimes. This must've been  
one of those times...  
  
  
  


Edwards spent the rest of the day packing up everything in his apartment (which wasn't that much) and  
informing various people that he was leaving. He called Petersen and asked him to pack up everything in his office.  
When he got off the link with Petersen, he leaned back in his chair and sighed. That was that. He had the entire  
afternoon off, and nothing to do.  
He stayed like that for a moment longer, then leaned forward again.  
He had one more thing to do. One more call that he'd forgotten to place.  
He tapped in the number, then rested his elbows on the desk to wait.  
  


Minutes later, a man who was in his late sixties--maybe early seventies-- appeared on the screen.  
His face brightened with a smile when he saw Edwards.  
"Brad!" He exclaimed. "How're you doing?"  
Edwards grinned too, very glad to see the older man. "I'm doing great, Dad. I just called to talk to you before  
I left."  
Jonathen Edwards' brow furrowed. "Where're you going?"  
The younger Edwards' grin widened even further. "I got a ship, Dad. A brand new starship."  
Jonathen's smile returned, "Great! I'm glad! I know you were always happier in the captain's chair than  
behind a desk. When do you leave?"  
"Tomorrow afternoon."  
Jonathen clapped his hands together. "Then why don't you come over for dinner tonight? We can talk before  
you leave."  
The starship captain nodded, "I'd like that. I'll be over at about....seven?"  
"Seven's good."  
"Great, see you then."  
"G'bye, Brad. I love you."  
"I love you to, Dad. See you tonight." And with that, he cut the link.  
Dinner, He thought, First time in two years.... 

***  
  
  
  


Back on the NX-1799, DePaul groaned tiredly and leaned back, tilting her chair back on two legs. She  
cupped a hot cup of coffee in her hands, savoring it bit by bit.  
She was sitting in the lounge...which was one of the few parts of the ship that was completed. About a dozen  
other officers were lounging about as well. They seemed to congregate here after a duty shift ended. At the bar--which  
took up a good part of one wall--a holographic bartended was juggling three bottles of whisky, much to the  
amusement of several officers who were watching. He said something and everyone burst out laughing.  
DePaul was watching him so intently that she didn't see Menyez come up. When he said "Mind if I join you?"  
She nearly jumped out of her skin.  
She hid her suprise well and nodded toward the seat across from her. "Not at all."  
Menyez thunked his drink down on the table and dropped into the seat. He took a long swig, then asked,  
"How'd it go in Engineering today?"  
She shrugged, "As well as can be expected. Lieutenant Commander Dk'myr'chi isn't the most pleasant person  
to work for. I can see why so many officers turned down this assignment."  
"Aw," Menyez waved a hand in dismissal, "He's not like that. It's just an act he puts on in public. He pretty nice  
and friendly to his friends."  
She grunted, "I bet he doesn't have many of them."  
He shook his head, "No, but the ones he does have will be with him a lifetime. He doesn't take friendship  
lightly. If you're his friend, you should be honored."  
"Well, I guess I can't be honored, seeing as he treats me like another junior-grade cadet."  
"He treats everyone like that until you prove that you have skills that make you better than a junior-grad cadet."  
She turned to squint at him, "How do you know all this? Are you one of his privileged friends?"  
He chuckled, "Me? Naw. But I talk to Lieutenant Rodrequiz all the time. Rodrequiz an' Dk'myr'chi served  
together on another ship before tranferring over here. Rodrequiz is much nicer and more forthcoming then Dk'myr'chi.  
He talks, I listen."  
"Oh," She sipped her coffee again and brought her chair back down on all four legs. "Thanks for the  
information, Lieutenant. If you'll excuse me, I must be going."  
He nodded pleasantly and she got up, heading toward the bar to return her cup.  
The bartender smiled pleasantly as she approached. His image was of an average-height man, with neatly  
trimmed gray hair, and a dashing smile. "Hey there, Lieutenant DePaul, wanna re-fill?"  
"No," She set the mug down on the bar, "That's it for me, thanks."  
And with that, she turned and walked slowly out of the lounge, heading for her quarters as she scrubbed her  
eyes tiredly.  
Menyez hustled by, heading for some unknown destination. He tossed a cheerful, "See you in Engineering  
in two hours." Over his should as he turned down another corridor that branched out from the one she was currently in.  
Then his words resigtered on her tired brain. Two hours...?  
"Wait a minute!" She shouted after him. Abandoning her corridor and running after him, she shouted again  
"Lieutenant, wait a minute!"  
She rounded a bend, found him waiting for her, and slowed to a brisk walk.  
"Two hours?" She demanded as she slowed to a stop.  
"Yup." He replied. "You've got two hours to rest then your back on duty in Engineering."  
"But I just put in a full shift!" She protested.  
He shrugged. "Doesn't matter. Everyone's working shifts like this. Some people don't even bother taking the  
two hour break."  
"Why is everyone working so fast? When's the deadline?"  
"Tomorrow at 1200 hours." He replied promptly.  
"Tomorrow?" She repeated, shocked. "But Engineering's still a mess! There's construction going on all over the  
place. We can't be ready by noon tomorrow!"  
"We have to be. That's the deadline." He chuckled at the shocked/angry expression on her face and said,  
"Don't worry, we'll get it done. Lieutenant Commander Dk'myr'chi can be quite a slave driver when the situation  
warrents. He'll make sure the ship's done on time if he has to horsewhip us to meet the deadline." His chuckle turned  
into a full laugh. "And I wouldn't put it past him either!"  
She groaned and scrubbed her entire face. "Thanks Lieutenant. See you in a couple of hours."  
I can at least get two hours of sleep... she thought as she walked in the other direction, heading for her  
quarters.  
  
  
  


Personal Log: Lieutenant DePaul: Begin recording... 

0900 Hours the next morning: The majority of the NX-1799's been finished. Engineering's still a disaster,  
and the aft shuttle bay is a wreck.  
1000 Hours: Completed Engineering. A bug in the computer cause the shuttle bay to open the main bay  
doors without the protective forecfield being active. No one was injured, since everyone was either wearing  
EV suits, or managed to get out in time. However, all the equipment and supplies were tossed out into space  
and is currently drifting farther and farther away. Shuttles and tugs have been sent out to retrieve it all.  
1100 Hours: We've finished Decks 4 through twenty. The lower and upper four are still under  
construction, but the rest of the ship is completed. The supplies that was jettisoned from the shuttle bay has  
been retrieved. Work is proceeding smoothly in that area.  
1200 Hours: Almost all of the decks had been completed. Dk'myr'chi had been very good at 'encouraging' the  
workers to work. The only thing that wasn't done was Decks 2 and 3....but they would be done before the ship  
officially set sail.  
DePaul had gracefully excused herself from the small, informal celebration in Engineering, had walked back  
to her quarters, and had fallen asleep literally before her head hit the pillow.  
Sleep, she decided, after working non-stop for almost two days is somthing I'll never take for granted again...  
  


***  
  
  
  


At exactly 1200 Hours, Captain Edwards set foot on the NX-1799. He stood just outside the small  
shuttle-craft and took in the shuttle bay of his new ship.  
It wasn't all that large. Large enough to hold two shuttles, a dropship of some kind, and five small tug/tenders.  
In addition, it wasn't completly done. Edwards could still see some workers moving as fast as they could to complete  
the bay.  
In front of the shuttle stood almost a hundred officers, standing in long rows at perfect attention. The moment  
he came on-board, somone blew a whistle in a long shrilling note and everyone snapped to even sharper attention  
(if that was possible. Edwards hadn't seen people stand this sharply since he'd left the Acadamy).  
"At ease." Edwards commanded. In perfect unison, everyone relaxed to a standerd Starfleet 'at ease' position.  
A human male with dark brown hair and a red command uniform marched stiffly down the aisle between  
the rows of officers. He stopped a meter away from Edwards and snapped a perfect salute.  
Edwards returned it. Saluting? This is certantly different... And said quietly,  
"Permission to come aboard?"  
"Granted, sir!" The younger man barked.  
"Are you in charge here?"  
"No, sir!" The officer barked again.  
Edwards stepped closer and said, "Stop shouting, and tell me who is."  
"Commander Francis, sir." The officer said in subdued tones.  
"And where is he?"  
"Right here," A quiet voice said from behind the shuttle. Edwards turned to see  
a short, stocky, black-haired fellow walk slowly around the shuttle and extend a hand to Edwards.  
"Pleased to meet you, Captain. I apologize for the enthusiazm of my assistant here. Lieutenant, I told you, people  
don't salute anymore."  
The Lieutenant reddened, but remained mute.  
Commander Fancis motioned toward the doors on the far end of the rows of officers. "Come, Captain.  
I'll show you to your quarters."  
Francis turned slowly to face the assembly after they had reached the door and bellowed in an incredibly  
loud voice. "Dismissed!"  
The officers started to break ranks and talk among each other. Commander Francis ignored it and guided  
Edwards down the corridors and into a turbolift.  
After the doors has slid shut, and Francis had said "Deck 4", Edwards spoke.  
"I read the specs on the NX-1799 on my way over here. She's impressive."  
With a measure of pride, Francis replied, "Yes, sir, she is. We're very proud of her.  
"You should be." Another moment of silence, then, "How many of her class are they planning on building?"  
Francis replied, "No more, sir. This one's it."  
Edwards' brow furrowed as he frowned, "Only one? Why?"  
Francis shifted slightly on his feet and said, "Because a little while after they started construction, they  
discovered that the Guardian-class warship wasn't easy or cheap to build. We were already well underway  
building her, so they decided to finish this one. The designers are working on building other warships that are  
cheaper and easier to build though. After this, we'll be assigned to work on the Mauradur-class, and then there's  
the Destroyer-class, the Defender-class, the Avenger-class...we'll be busy for quite some time."  
"One of a kind," Edwards grinned and shook his head, "I like it.  
"Yessir."  
The conversation came to an end as the 'lift slowed and the doors hummed open. Edwards and Francis  
stepped out of the lift and started walking down the corridor, doding the occasional crewman--the corridors were  
rather narrow, so Edwards usually had to slide behind Francis to allow the crewmen to pass-- until they reached a  
door marked "Captain's Quarters."  
Francis tapped a button on the keypad and the door slid open silently before them.  
Francis gestured inside and Edwards walked in. Francis followed close behind.  
His quarters weren't as spacious as the ones he'd had on Earth, but Edwards liked these better. He didn't  
like having several huge rooms like he had had on Earth. He didn't have enough stuff to fill all those rooms anyway...  
These quarters were a decent-sized suite. It consisted of a quaint bedroom, a small bathroom, and a  
fair-sized living room.  
What took Edwards' breath away and captured his attention immidatly was the window.  
On the far wall was a large, floor-to-ceiling window that actually jutted out of the ship five or six inches.  
Edwards dropped his bag and walked up to it.  
He discovered that if he held onto the edges, he could actually stand inside the window. The view was  
spectacualer...even if it was just of one of the pylons of the space dock. Edwards felt as if he was in zero-g.  
The gravity was very light in the window. He discovered that as long as he looked forward, he could imagine  
easily that he was in freefall. It was wonderful.  
"That was always one of my favorite features." Francis commented from just inside the door with a small grin.  
Edwards stepped out of the window, back onto the NX-1799 (he'd never left, it had just felt like he had.)  
and nodded in approval to Francis. "These quarters will do fine, thank you."  
Francis turned to go. "Well, if you'll excuse me, I need to go supervise some of the final construction.  
The christening party is in three hours. Good day, captain."  
Edwards nodded and Francis walked out. The door slid shut behind him, cutting Edwards off from the  
noise of the ship.  
He considered stepping back into the window, then decided against it. He'd better get settled in before  
anyone called on him.  
He snatched his duffel bag from the floor and, unzipping it, set it on a table. He started pulling items from it.  
The first thing was an intracatly-carved, gold picture frame which contained a picture of three people.  
One was Edwards' father, standing tall and proud in his best suit. His 'sunday suit' as he'd called it. Edwards had  
never thought to ask him what he meant by that. Standing beside him, with one hand draped across his shoulders,  
was Edwards himself. Edwards, a little younger. Edwards, without a goatee. And Edwards a little bit lighter. The  
picture had been taken almost ten years prior. Beside Edwards was a tall, thin, brown-haired woman who had a  
light, cheerful smile on her face. She wore a Captain's uniform on her thing frame, and seemed to project an aire  
of quite authority. It was somthing Edwards had always tried to duplicate....although he never knew if he succeeded.  
He smiled to himself, staring at the picture. It was the last picture of his mother that had been taken before  
she had disappeared with her ship on a mission on the rim of known space.  
He took the picture and set it gently on a small table that sat on the wall by the door, just under a brilliant  
painting of Captain Ahab, about to throw the harpoon into Moby Dick's white side.  
As he set down the picture, he happend to glance up at the painting. He was about to continue unpacking,  
then stopped and peered closer at Ahab's face.  
The hatred on the man's face was evident. His face was contorted in a angry shout that carried such terrible  
vehemence, that Edwards almost cringed just looking at it.  
He had no idea why the picture was there, but he definitly wanted it to stay just where it was. He liked it a lot.  
From his bag, he pulled a small case containing almost two dozen Isolinear Optical Chips, each of which  
contained very large amounts of data that would get him in a lot of trouble, should certain Federation authorities  
discover it.  
He took this case and set it on the bookshelf. It now looked like a bookend...a farce that was intentional.  
But of course, a bookend needs books to support. So, from his bag, he brought 6 books. The tattered  
and worn books had travled with him all over the galaxy. They had been with him longer then most of his friends had. 

He set them up, then stepped back to make sure he had them all.  
The Illiad.  
The Oddessy  
Don Quixote  
Moby Dick  
War of the Worlds  
The Time Machine  
He nodded once to himself. That was all of them.  
The rest of his bag was filled with his clothes. He unpacked them, stowing them away in the small drawers  
that had been provided. Then he went back to the door and grabbed the metal case he had brought with him.  
Inside, wrapped in layers of padding, were almost a dozen various types of old-style, twentieth-century  
handguns, ranging from old flintlocks, to semi-automatics. He was very proud his collection of antiques. On one  
side of each gun was a small magnetic fixture. Using these, he attached the guns to the wall in what he thought was a  
nice looking display. Then he dragged a chair over by the display and, standing on it, he twisted one of the lights to  
shine directly on it, illuminating the display nicely.  
After pushing the chair back where it belongs, he stepped back and gazed at his quarters with a contented sigh.  
Now this was his home.  
  


***  
  
  
  


Three hours later, Edwards stepped out of the turbolift on the third level of the shipyard, and walked quickly  
to the wardroom where everyone was gathered for the christening party. He resisted the urge to tug on the collar of  
his resplendant white with gold trim dress uniform. He'd worn it many, many times in his career and, for some reason,  
every time he wore it, the blasted thing started itching! He was convinced it gave him a rash on his back. Not only  
that, it made his throat itch non-stop. He couldn't constantly scratch his throat, so he tried to ignore it, but there were  
times when he felt like it would drive him insane.  
The door to the spacious wardroom opened before him. He walked in to find almost two dozen officers of  
various ranks mulling about, talking with each other, or gazing out the windows at the NX-1799 which was visible  
through the huge wall-to-wall viewports. He looked at it for a moment, drawn to the beauty of its gracefull curves.  
Every part of the ship seemed to flow into every other part of the ship. There was not a single harsh angle visible on the NX-1799.  
He poured himself a drink out of one of the many bottles that filled a table in a corner, then moved back into  
the crowd.  
The first person to approach him was Admiral Nechayev. She held a cup in her hand, although it didn't look  
to Edwards like she had even touched her drink. She nodded curtly to him. "Captain Edwards."  
"Admiral," He smiled politly, then gestured out the window. "Beautiful ship."  
"Indeed." She replied. Her tone didn't indicate whether she agreed or not. Edwards had met her once before.  
It had been his first year out of the Acadamy, and he had made a mistake that had blundered delicate negotiations  
between the Federation and an alien race. She had given his a dressing down. He had learned very quickly that one  
did not want to get on this woman's bad side...since one might not live long enough to make it to her good side. She  
had a very sharp tongue, and a very extensive volcabulary, and she wasn't afraid to use either one of them.  
Since then, Edwards hadn't gotten on her good side, but he wasn't on her bad side anymore either.  
Her sandy-colored hair had some gray mixed in with it. The strain of the war, no doubt, Edwards thought.  
He knew that by the time the war was over, he would undoubtedly have a gray hair or two mixed in with his blond hair.  
"Make sure you make good use of it." Edwards winced as she said this. He never, ever called a ship "it".  
A ship, to him, was "she". It was a tradition that dated back hundreds of years.  
"Yes, sir." Edwards nodded. "I'm sure she'll help us greatly against the Dominion."  
"Mmmm," She grunted and moved off. She muttered something as she walked away, and Edwards barely  
caught it. She muttered, "--Problems --sides the Dominion to worry about."  
Before Edwards could think about this, a strong, rich voice said from behind him,  
"Captain Edwards! Glad you could make it! What do you think of her?"  
Edwards turned to find Admiral Will Hendrickson standing in front of him, a wide smile lighting his craggy  
features. He shook hands with the older, stocky man, and thought idly that this man had a grip that most people would  
envy...  
"Her", that's better. But then, Hendrickson was a captain at one time too...  
"Admiral Hendrickson! I think she's a beauty. If you don't mind my saying so, sir, I'm looking forward to  
unleashing her into a Jem'Hadar ship. I realize a 'Fleet captain shouldn't want things like that but..."  
"Captain," Hendrickson chuckled, "All captain wonder how their ships'll do in combat. And besides, you have  
a warship. It's natural that you want to make good use of her."  
Hendrickson's smile faded away as he leaned closer and said, "And you won't have long to wait. The war is  
heating up. Rest assured, you will unleash her on more then one Jem'Hadar ship before this bloody war is over."  
Edwards nodded, sobered. As the two meandered over to the window, he said,  
"I want to thank you for approving my transfer to the NX-1799. I think I would've exploded if I'd stayed  
behind that desk much longer."  
Hendrickson chuckled again. He seemed to laugh readily. "Captain, there are days when I know exactly how  
you feel. I sometimes miss being in the captain's chair on the bridge of a ship. I occasionaly want to go back to the  
stars."  
"With all due respect, sir, why don't you do it? With the war and all, good, seasoned captains are needed to  
command our ships. You could get a ship easily, I bet."  
Hendrickson straightened up and blinked, "I probably could at that. Captain, you've given me somthing  
interesting to think about. If you'll excuse me, though, the ceremony needs to begin."  
Edwards nodded. After Hendrickson had moved away toward the podium that sat on a raised platform,  
Edwards found a seat that was back toward the wall. From this angle, he could watch the Admirals and other brass  
talk and--when the talks got dull--he could look at his ship without anyone noticing.  
A petty thing for a captain to worry about...but he knew how much these types liked to talk. It was what they  
were good at.  
Still, He thought, The speeches might be short. Hendrickson was a captain too once, so I'm sure speeches  
aren't somthing he likes much either. And Admiral Nechayev isn't a very talkitive person anyway. She'll  
probably say somthing short and to the point...which is fine with me.  
Admiral Hendrickson stood in front of the podium with Admiral Nechayev standing just to his right. A Captain  
who stood just below the podium picked up a glass and rapped on it with a spoon. Everyone quieted down and gave  
their full attention to Hendrickson.  
Hendrickson cleared his throat and began with a friendly smile.  
"Ladies and Gentlemen, fellow officers, I welcome you to the christening of the NX-1799--an experimental  
Guardian-class warship. Before we christen her, though, I would like to tell you a little bit about her.  
"The NX-1799, as you may have noticed, looks almost exactly like a Sovreign-class starship. To save time  
during construction, we used the shell of an Sovreign-class ship, and rebuilt her into the warship that you see sitting  
out there. She is the most heavily-armed ship built to date, with more phaser banks than three Jem'Hadar warships  
combined."  
A slight murmer went through the crowd at this. Even Edwards, who had already read all this in a briefing, was  
still awed by the thought of that many phaser banks.  
Hendrickson continued. "She also have almost twenty photon torpedo launchers installed at various angles.  
The angles were set up so that there is no point anywhere around the ship where a photon cannot reach. This ship  
does not have a single, major weak point anywhere...and the small, minor weak points are next to impossible to hit."  
Hendrickson pressed a button on the podium. The lights in the room dimmed and a large, bright white circle  
appeared, illuminating an area of the floor. The people stepped out of the circle and stood around it, talking among  
themselves.  
Inside the circle, hovering at about waist-level, was a holographic image of the NX-1799.  
"Folks, I would to present the feature we're most proud of. The Octahedron Shield System."  
Around the ship, a three-dimensional octagon--an octahedron--appeared. Another small ship that was  
much farther off appeared.  
"When another ship fires--" Hendrickson began. The computer reacted to his words. The simulation came to life.  
The other ship fired a single orange beam at the NX-1799.  
"--Lightning fast computers register the beam and perform some incredibly fast calculations. Then the  
shields actually move to a different angle--"  
True to his words, the shields rotated around the NX-1799.  
"--the beam hits the shields at the pre-calculated angle--"  
The beam did just that.  
"--and is bounced off into space, causing very little damage to the NX-1799."  
The beam hit the shields and was redirected along a different trajecotory. A series of numbers appeared in  
one corner.  
Beam strength: 100+  
If Edwards wasn't mistaken, that was the strength of two combined Jem'Hadar phaser shots.  
Damage to shields: 1.2396%  
He was impressed. That was a very small amount of damage!  
Hendrickson beam with pride, then shut off the simulation and continued.  
"This is only one of many features incorperated in the NX-1799. She has some of the most advanced  
technology the Federation has to offer. Several dozen races besides Terrans contributed valuable pieces technology  
to help improve our ship. Everyone recognizes the importance of this ship in stopping the Dominion. Thank you for  
your time."  
And with that, he stepped back and surrendered the podium to Nechayev. The crowd clapped politely.  
She didn't clear her throat, or do anything else. She simply began to talk.  
"Ladies and Gentleman. The NX-1799, hopefully, will be the weight that tilts the balance of power in our  
favor. All our tests have show it to be far more capable than any Jem'Hadar ship currently known. I have no doubt  
that it will be a great help in days to come. Thank you."  
Edwards raised his eyebrows as he clapped with the rest of the crowd.  
I knew she'd be short....but that was short even for her...  
Hendrickson stepped back up. "And now, the time has come to give our ship a name."  
He stepped down from the podium and made his way over to the small airlock that was built into one of the  
windows. It had been installed for just this purpose. Hendrickson took a bottle of champagne. It was about to place  
it in the airlock, then paused and turned to Edwards. "Captain?"  
Edwards--who had already gotten up and was standing beside Hendrickson--smiled and accepted the bottle.  
He placed it in the airlock, then thumbed the red switch beside it.  
The outer airlock blew and the force of the air rushing into the space sent the bottle hurtling through space  
toward the gleaming white hull of the NX-1799. It tumbled end-over-end for several minutes, then shattered against  
the NX-1799's hull. Workers were already on hand to clean up the glass shards and the champagne before it could  
spread in the zero-g and affect somthing. Everyone burst into genuine applause--even Nechayev.  
Hendrickson shouted over the applause in his deep, booming voice "I name this ship... The U.S.S KHITOMER!"  
The applause redoubled. Edwards clapped until he hands were soar.  
And then, Admiral Hendrickson raised his hands for silence. Edwards along with everyone else fell into a puzzeled silence. The ceremony was concluded. Edwards was wondering what the Admiral had planned, when Hendrickson spoke. A sadness tinged his voice, and Edwards thought he saw a touch of pain in his eyes.  
"Let's pause in silence for a minute to remember all our fallen comrads who didn't survive to see the KHITOMER usher in a new era of peace."  
Everyone fell silent. Most people--Edwards included--bowed their heads as they recalled all their friends who  
had died protecting the Federation from invasion.  
Edwards had far too many memories to recall on this matter...  
  


***  
  
  
  


Two hours later, with the KHITOMER's construction completed and her crew aboard, she was ready to sail on her shakedown cruise. Edwards had just come on board using the newly installed transporter system--which was almost twice as fast as any other he'd ever used--and was walking at a very brisk pace toward the bridge.  
He bounced up and down on his toes nervously on the turbolift ride upward. He was full of nervous energy with no outlet for any of it. So he bounced up and down and hummed every bar of almost every song that he could  
think of.  
The door opened and it took all his restraint to walk calmly onto the bridge, rather than burst on and shout "Engage" like he wanted to do.  
He walked down and stood in front of the captain's chair without looking down, gazing first at the viewscreen,  
then around at the bridge.  
The helmsman commanded a large console--the type used on the bridges of Intrepid-class starships--that sat  
just in front of the viewscreen. The security consol was to the captain's right, on the raised aft of the bridge. The First  
Officer manned a station that was next to the security station. Edwards didn't care for that very much. He didn't like  
having to shout across the bridge just to talk to his second-in-command. A final sweeping gaze showed him that the  
Engineering, science, and ops consoles were all in the proper places for a Sovreign-class type bridge.   
He'd been  
given a tour of the U.S.S Sovreign when she'd come off the assembly line and had been very impressed. He was  
still impressed by the ship. She seemed to emenate raw power. Her gracefull curves and lines made her look like  
she was ready, eager, and able to leap into warp and any second. He loved the Sovreign-class starship....but he  
loved the Guardian-class even more.  
Giving the bridge one final sweep--all the while trying to shake the feeling that somthing was missing--he  
stepped back and lowered himself into the captain's chair--  
--and wound up sitting on the deck.  
Commander O'Connors hustled across the bridge from his station and helped his new captain to his feet.  
"Sorry, sir. I should've told you. We decided to get rid of the captain's chair. That way the captain can always be  
moving around and keeping an eye on things. A study done by Starfleet officials suggests that--"  
Edwards interrupted the man's stream of data. "Thank you, Commander, that's enough."  
O'Connors nodded once and returned to his station.  
The security chief was sitting in a chair with his feet stretched out underneath the console. They actually  
dangled off the edge of the raised part of the bridge. He chin was resting on his chest, his eyes were closed.  
He was asleep.  
"Mr. Eckley!" Edwards bellowed.  
The security chief sat up, startled. He tried to slid upright in his chair, but lost his balance in his groggy state  
and wound up sliding down onto the floor, landing with a Thunk. He blinked blearily a couple of times, then bolted  
back into his chair. "Sir! Sorry, sir!"  
Edwards just scowled, then turned to face forward again.  
"Helmsman," He said. "Clear all moorings. Release docking clamps. Ahead one-quarter impulse speed.  
Take us out of spacedock."  
"Aye, sir."  
With a cer-chunk, the moorings and docking clamps fell away. Like a great beast loosed from its bonds,  
the KHITOMER's engines glowed to life.  
"Engage."  
The Helmsman pressed the forward acceleration button--  
--and the KHITOMER promptly started moving in reverse!  
Fortunatly, the Helmsman seemed to be more alert than the other officers on the bridge. He reacted quickly  
and punched the reverse key, sending them forward before they could collide with the Excelsior-class starship that  
had been moored in the berth just behind them.  
Edwards breathed a sigh of relief and watched as the spider-like shape of the shipyards fell behind them as  
the KHITOMER flew free.  
"What went wrong?" He demanded of the young helmsman as he stalked toward him.  
"Sorry, sir." The young man with hair as black as space and eyes as blue as Earth's sky replied, "Somehow  
the controles got reversed. forward is reverse and reverse is forward. It can be fixed easily enough."  
"Good, get on it." Edwards ordered.  
"Aye, sir. I'll fill out the proper paperwork and submit it to Starfleet command. We should get an approval  
in about a week."  
"What!?" Edwards couldn't believe what he had just heard. Requesting permission to conduct field repairs  
was like requesting permission to swing from the light fixtures in 'Fleet HQ!  
"I said, sir--"  
Edwards waved a hand for silence.  
"I heard you, Lieutenant. Never mind, forget it."  
"Uh, aye, sir." The younger man turned to face forward again.  
Edwards resisted the urge to sit in his command chair, knowing that he would only fall on his backside again.  
He glanced irratably over at the security console and once again saw Mr. Eckley sleeping. He didn't even bother  
waking him up again. Instead, he went over to an unoccupied science console and comandeered the seat. His feet  
had started to hurt.  
The KHITOMER would cruise at Impulse out of the Sol System, and then they would begin conducting the  
various tests that awaited them. The trip would take about a half-an-hour...longer then usual, but then, the engines  
were only operating at half-capacity.  
Edwards could hear O'Connors speaking into the intercom, talking quietly with someone in another part  
of the ship. Edwards' brow furrowed and he listened harder. The voice sounded very familier...  
"--soon will the engines be up?" O'Connors said, presumably to someone in Engineering.  
"Maybe an hour? The system's screwed up pretty bad."  
"How did this happen?"  
"Some bozo install two different types of circuts in the same section of the propulsion system.  
Whoever it was didn't stop to check an' see if they were compatible. Needless to say, they ain't."  
"We'll file a report with Starfleet. The proper officials will give us permission to replace the faulty circuts."  
"Commander, with all due respect, I ain't waiting for some stuffed-shirt Admiral to getting around  
to signing a form! I've got all the parts I need down here, an' I'm gonna fix the engines. You can type reports  
'til you get blisters on your fingers, but I'm not."  
O'Connors bristled at this, "Lieutenant Commander--"  
"End of discussion, Commander. Dk'myr'chi out."  
Dk'myr'chi! Edwards lept up from his seat and darted toward the turbolift, ignoring the Commander's inquires  
as to where he was off to in such a hurry, and ordered the 'lift to Engineering. The ride was shorter than earlier ones  
--mostly because the 'lift system had been brought up to specs. It was now hurtling down at its normal speed.  
The door opened and Edwards rushed into Engineering, barely noticing the disarray that exsisted in the place.  
He asked an officer who was bent over a console, "Where is Lieutenant Commander Dk'myr'chi."  
Lieutenant Rodrequiz turned and pointed at a conduit where a pair of booted feet could be seen sticking out.  
"Right over there, Captain," He said.  
"Thank you." He hustled over and exclaimed "Dimitri?"  
Dk'myr'chi was startled. As he had when DePaul had approached him, he jumped and whacked his head on  
the ceiling of the conduit. He started cursing terribly. Even Edwards was suprised at the variety of words the other  
managed to think of. He had picked up a few in five years...  
"What in the blue blazes it is with people around here!?" He roared, his voice sounding tinny and distant  
as it drifted up to Edwards from inside the conduit. "Why is it every time I get inside this cursed conduit, somebody  
has to come along and scream at me!? I swear by Djinn's holy name that I'm gonna expose this entire area to  
vacuum, then fix this frackin' thing in a spacesuit!"  
Edwards grinned and said, "You can do that, Dimitri, but you'll need permission from Captain Edwards, your  
new CO."  
Dk'myr'chi was completly silent for a moment, then wriggled himself out of the tube and hauled himself to his  
feet. "Brad?" He said hesitantly.  
Edwards grinned, unable to think of anything to say. Dk'myr'chi laughed out loud and grabbed him in a mighty  
bear hug that seemed to squeeze all the air out of Edwards' lungs. "Brad! By Djinn, it is a small galaxy, isn't it! How  
long's it been? Five years?"  
Edwards tried to answer, but all that came out was a sickly gasping noise. Dk'myr'chi laughed again and  
released him, saying, "You were always so much fun to bear hug, Brad."  
Edwards was still grinning as he rubbed his now-aching ribs and replied, "I'm your captain. You can't bear  
hug me. It could qualify as treason...or mutiny...or....uh--"  
"Yeah, right." Dk'myr'chi's grin could've engulfed the entire KHITOMER, with parsecs of space to spare on  
each side. "You look good, Brad. I don't think you've changed a bit."  
Edwards slapped his belly, "Oh, I put on a few pounds here and there. Also grew a goatee."  
Dk'myr'chi squinted and peered closer at Edwards' goatee. "So you did. I never understood why humans  
felt a need to cover their faces in hair."  
Edwards looked at the top of Dk'myr'chi's head and commented. "And speaking of hair, I see you lost yours."  
Dk'myr'chi ran his hand across his bald head, "Yeah, the last of it fell out last year."  
Edwards couldn't believe it had taken five years for Dk'myr'chi's hair to fall out. When he had known him,  
all he had ever had was barely stubble. It looked like a very harsh imatation of the standerd haircut that they gave all  
cadets when they entered the Acadamy. It had never gotten any longer, nor any shorter, in all the time that Edwards  
and Dk'myr'chi had been friends.  
Dk'myr'chi was of mixed heritage. He was a Human/Gorn hybrid (Edwards didn't know how that was  
actually possible, and he had never asked. Since Dk'myr'chi hadn't been forthcoming with the information, it remained  
an unknown). Although he looked mostly human in appearance, traces of the mixed genes could be seen.  
He had no ears. Instead he had earholes--small holes on each side of his head where ears would normally go.  
His eyes were orange and slit vertically--looking remarkably like cat's eyes. He had excellent vision. Not only  
could he see small details that other people would miss, but he had excellent night vision. The one discontorting  
aspect of it was that his eyes would sometimes glow like a cat's. It scared some people to death, and drove others  
nuts. His skin was green-tinted, another mark of his Gorn genes. He stood maybe three inches shorter than Edwards,  
but was much wider. He was a very stocky fellow, and was in good shape. He had remarkable strength, which was  
another aspect of his Gorn heritage.  
"You were pretty harsh to Commander O'Connors over the comm just now," Edwards commented.  
Dk'myr'chi scowled. "'Cause the man's an idiot. He should be behind a desk, not on a starship. I swear,  
that man is better at typing reports and messing around with all that beauracratic nonsense."  
"Have you met Mr. Eckley yet?"  
Dk'myr'chi snorted. "He should've been shot. It would greatly help the Gene Pool. The man's as big a fool  
as O'Connors is."  
"What's the rest of the senior staff like?" Edwards was almost afraid to ask.  
The Doctor, according to Dk'myr'chi, was a hypocondriac, and kind've jittery. The Helmsman was another  
beauracrat-in-starlfeet's-clothing. The squad leader in command of the Pheonix-class fighter squadron was a  
trigger-happy maniac. Dk'myr'chi didn't know how in the world he'd gotten through the Acadamy. He had  
assumed anyone with a shred of common sense would've locked him up and thrown away the key ages ago.  
Instead, he'd been promoted to Squad Leader, and given his own squad.  
Edwards shook his head disbelievingly. "Of all the crews, I get the one that escaped from the funny farm."  
Dk'myr'chi didn't know exactly what a 'funny farm' was. He'd never heard of that particular establishment  
on Earth or any of her colonies.  
Before either of them could say more, Edwards' badge chirped. "Captain," O'Connor's voice said,  
"We've reached the testing field and are ready to proceed."  
"I'm on my way to the bridge, Edwards out." Edwards shrugged apologetically at Dk'myr'chi. "Duty calls.  
I'll talk to you later."  
Dk'myr'chi waved as the captain hustled out Engineering's massive sliding doors, then lowered himself  
back down to the deck and slid into the conduit again. 

***  
  
  
  


"Report?" Edwards demanded as he walked onto the bridge.  
O'Connors rose from his station and came forward with a PADD in his hand. "Yes, sir. I have one prepared."  
He punched a key. "Launched from Lunar Shipyards at 1700 Hours. Proceed at half-impulse to testing area A.  
Arrived at 1730. Impulse engines shut down at 1732. Phaser banks powered up at 1735. Photon torpedo launchers  
brought on-line at 1740. Shields--"  
"Mr. O'Connors," Edwards demanded impatiently, "Are we ready for the tests or not?"  
"Er...yes, sir." O'Connors nodded once, holding his report and glancing at it as if he deparatly wanted to finish  
it.  
Edwards didn't want to hear the rest of the report. "Thank you, Commander. Please have a complete report  
on my desk in three hours. Make it as complete as you can."  
O'Connor's brightened up at the thought of getting to write what would no doubt be a very, extensive report.  
"Yes, sir! I'll get right on it!" He walked back to his station with a little more bounce in his step.  
Edwards grinned mentally and stepped down, standing in the spot where he command chair normally would've  
been. He had to catch himself every time he came on the bridge, otherwise he would've tried to sit down, further  
bruising his rear end. He really wanted a command chair...  
"Lieutenant," He said to the helmsman, "Bring us up on on Testing Zone 1A."  
Testing Zone 1A consisted of several small, sphericle probes. Each probe was equipped with thrusters that  
face almost every direction. When activated, the probes would start daring about in random directions. It was a very  
good test of the phaser and photon firing systems.  
"Approaching it now, sir."  
"Mr. Eckley, activate probes. Target probe one and prepare to fire."  
No response...  
Edwards sighed in angry exasperation and bellowed again, "Mr. Eckley!"  
Again, Eckley awoke startled and slid out of his seat, landing on the deck. He scrambled back into his chair  
and said, "Sir! Sorry, sir! What're your orders?"  
Edwards gritted his teeth, counted to ten, counted to ten again, then said.  
"Activate Probe one. Target probe one and prepare to fire."  
"Aye, aye...Ready, sir."  
"Fire."  
The probe stared its mad dance, darting all about the KHITOMER. The phaser banks locked onto the target  
and the advanced computer system did its stuff. The phaser banks that were currently in rang of the probe opened  
fire on it. Then, when the probe danced out of the range of those banks, they ceased fire and the other banks picked  
up. In barely five seconds, the probe was destroyed.  
"Activate second probe. Target and prepare to fire."  
"Yessir."  
Probe two was destroyed in less time than probe one as the computer system adapted from the last attack  
and learned how to predict the probe's movements.  
"Prepare Photon torpedos. Activate and target Probe three."  
"Ready."  
"Fire."  
The computer didn't fire right away. It followed the probe's movements, then unleashed a single torpedo  
that destroyed the probe instantly."  
O'Connors looked over. "Test 1 completed, sir."  
Edwards nodded, "Take us to Test Zone 2, Lieutenant."  
The KHITOMER's powerful engines ignited and the mighty warship roared into Zone 2. In this Test, heavily  
shielded asteroids would be fired upon by the repeating photon launcher.  
"Target the asteroid and open fire." Edwards commanded.  
The repeated photon launcher poured a steady stream of photons into one point on the huge hunk of rock.  
In minutes, the shields had been destroyed and the rock pulverized.  
"Test 2 completed. Proceeding to Test Zone 3."  
They were just gliding past another asteroid, when the KHITOMER shuddered.  
"What was that?" Edwards asked.  
Mr. Eckley frowned as he looked his console. "I'm not sure, sir. I think it's a ship. Or maybe it's an asteroid..."  
Edwards sighed again in exasperation and stalked over to Eckley's station and glared at the sensor readouts.  
His eyes widened and he yelped. "Raise shields! Fire everything we've got at that blip!"  
"Sir?" Eckley shot Edwards a confused look as he leaned closer to examine the sensors again. "What is it?"  
"It's a Jem'Hadar warship, mister! Raise shields before they--"  
Too late. The KHITOMER lurched horribly to one side. The lights dimmed for a moment, then flickered back  
to life. Edwards rudely shoved Eckley out of the way, knocking him back into another console, and scrambled for  
the controls, trying to activate the shields.  
He punched the button repeatedly, and only succeeded in calling up a single message on the board.  
Shields damaged and inoprative.  
Oh boy...  
"Lieutenant!" He barked to the helmsman, "Get us out of here. Any course. Maximum warp. Engage!"  
As the KHITOMER swerved nimbly about and lept to speeds that were faster than light, Edwards busied  
himself trying to bring the weapons on-line.  
The KHITOMER shuddered again. A console exploded in a rain of sparks on the other side of the bridge.  
"Evasive!" Edwards ordered.  
The KHITOMER was moving painfully slow. It was barely able to reach warp five. Apparently the engines  
were still at half-strength. Evasive manuvers were so slow that the Jem'Hadar had no trouble adjusting their  
course to follow. They fired again and the lights dimmed on the KHITOMER's bridge again. They stayed down for  
almost fifteen seconds before rising slowly back to full intensity.  
The comm clicked and Dk'myr'chi's angry voice boomed over the bridge.  
"Dk'myr'chi to bridge. What're you doing up there!? I'm getting damage reports from all over the  
ship. The shields just went off-line, the engines are losing power, and the weapon's array had to be shut  
down. Whatever you're doing, knock it off!"  
"Dimitri, we're being pursued by a Jem'Hadar warship. We need weapons now."  
"Sorry, no can do. The array was overheating. We had to shut it down or lose it."  
"Wonderful, Edwards out."  
Again the KHITOMER rocked as Edwards gave up on weapons and started trying to send out a distress signal.  
It transmitted for ten seconds, then the Jem'Hadar jammed it.  
"Great, just great." Edwards muttered through his teeth.  
Another hit rocked the KHITOMER even harder than before. Edwards was thrown to the deck, hitting the base  
of his skull on the console as he fell. Blackness consumed him a minute later.  
O'Connors saw him fall and lept to his feet. "Captain!" He exclaimed uslessly.  
"Hull weakening," Eckley reported as he stepped forward, reclaiming his console.  
O'Connors looked at his unsconsious captain, looked at the blinking red warning lights on Eckley's board,  
looked at the viewscreen that showed the stars weaving back and forth as the helmsman tried to evade the  
attacking warship, and wondered what exactly he should do now.  
Five minutes later, he was just about to order the launch of the Pheonix-class fighters when the point  
became moot. The Jem'Hadar scored a hit on the hull and knocked the power out.  
The KHITOMER had one hundred fifty hours of battery power, so suffocating was a major problem.  
The problem, was now they couldn't even try to evade the Jem'Hadar warship's shots. O'Connors realized that  
on the next pass, the Jem'Hadar would no doubt be able to destroy the KHITOMER.  
The first voyage of the KHITOMER seemed to be its last...  
  


To Be Continued...  
  
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